Sometimes death reaches beyond
the grave to touch all future generations
"Narciso, is that Yanni in the yard? Did you let go of
him? What were you thinking?," Pepe's voice, not quite harsh but
strained and commanding, came from the dark shadows of the gallery behind the dining
room.
The gallery is what he and his mother called the inside back
porch. It could only be reached through a door in the dining room. It was a
little room, no more than a large cupboard. The china, the silverware and the
linens were kept in there. It was his and his mother's secret room. They used
to hide there and read books under the dim light of the single light bulb that
hung from the high ceiling. Sometimes they would fall asleep there and
Miguelina had to knock hard on the door to wake them up for dinner.
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| Photo: Puerto Rico Building Drawings Society |
The gallery’s one advantage today, for the men
who were whispering inside, was that it gave protection from the prying eyes
and ears of the growing crowd that had spilled from Magdalena Street into El
Pilar Street. Some were neighbors, but many had come from other parts of Santurce, Río Piedras and San Juan, as the news spread of
America's death and of the arrival of Liberal Party cars that could be bringing
some of the party’s leadership into the otherwise middle class neighborhood.
It seemed as if the crowd awaited with baited
breath, hoping but not really believing that Don Antonio Barceló or Don Luis
Muñoz Marín would be the ones descending from the cars. A loud thick communal sigh,
some cries of surprise and admiration, greeted Don Antonio as he descended his
car and walked into America’s house. Some people shouted “Don Luis, Don Luis,”
when to their disbelief, Muñoz Marín descended from a second car and also
walked into the house.
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| Luis Muñoz Marín |
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| Antonio R. Barceló |
It was always cool in the gallery, Yanni
thought. The last refuge from the unbearable heat that settled over the island as
July surrendered to the boiling days of August. He and his mother usually spent the
last days of summer vacation sitting in the darkened, cool gallery, fanning
each other, drinking lemonade, and dreaming of the breezy days that would
arrive at the end of September, precursors to their favorite month of October.
Then they would return to the familiar routines of lazy afternoons under the
big hammock tree. He and Aurora would be back there again, playing together as
the smells from Miguelina's kitchen wafted out with promises of stewed meat
sauces, delicious rice and beans, sweet fried ripe bananas.
"I didn't let go Don Pepe, he just ran away
from us when he saw the people in front of the house," Narciso answered.
"Go get him. Where is Miguelina? Tell her
to get him away from Mery, he shouldn't have seen her that way," Pepe
replied.
"Miguelina can't come Don Pepe, not
now," Narciso said. Pepe walked out into the dining room. Confusion in his
face.
"She's with the policeman in the front
room," Narciso said. "Answering questions."
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| Clip from Pommarrosas.com |
Pepe returned to the gallery and walked back out
a few seconds later with Don Antonio and Don Luis. They were headed to the
front room, to rescue Miguelina.
"Did you hear the gunshot?," a
policeman was asking Miguelina.
"No, how could I?," she answered.
"I was at the store."
"Why were you at the store?," the
policeman insisted.
"I always go to the store after I drop
Yanni at school," Miguelina said.
"Who is Yanni?," the policeman asked.
"Yanni is her son, the boy that ran in
screaming," Miguelina said.
"How do you spell his name," the
policeman asked. "Is that his name? I'd never heard it before."
"No, Yanni is his nickname, it's what we
call him," Miguelina said. "His name is Jua... José Antonio
Gelpí."
"Gelpí?," the policeman asked.
"Where's his father?"
Miguelina was barely keeping it together. Tears ran
down her cheeks, her handkerchief was soaked through. She adored America. There
was nothing she wouldn't have done for her. America had taken her away from an
abusive father and the poverty of her home. She had nursed Miguelina back to
health after she slit her wrists in an attempt to escape the relentless
violence and hopelessness of her home life. Her mother lived on scraps. Her
father spent all his earnings in rum and cockfights. Her mother fed the
children from the few coins she could make doing other people's laundry and
ironing. When America entered her life, Miguelina had been lying in bed, half dead, wishing
she was dead, her wrists wrapped in cotton gauze.
America heard of Miguelina's misfortune through
the maid grapevine. She had shown up at Miguelina's door, stepped down from her
car, dressed in the most beautiful gauze gown anyone in that street had ever
seen up close. She had been helped down by the driver, who extended his hand so she could place hers on top as she stepped on the street in her shiny black high-heeled leather shoes
with dainty beaded bands across the ankles. Yanni had stayed in the
backseat waiting for his mother. He must have been four or five years old then.
That same day, Miguelina moved into America's house on the corner of Magdalena
and El Pilar streets and never looked back. But she did send her mother part of
her weekly salary, to help feed her little brothers and sisters.
Now, she was trying to answer the policeman's
questions, but Yanni's crying in the backyard was pulling her, and the baby's
hungry mewlings were breaking what was left of her heart. She wanted to be with
them. She wanted to take care of America.
"She's hungry, the baby is hungry. I have
to feed her," Miguelina begged the officer.
Little Nancy was the beautiful baby girl America
brought back from Arecibo after an extended stay with Yanni and Miguelina.
"Now you have a sister, darling," she had said to Yanni. But he
wasn't very excited. There wasn't much you could do with a baby, except hold
her and feed her. She didn't play with him like Aurora did.
"I adopted a baby girl, her name is Nancy,
Nancy Gelpí y Seijo," America had announced to the world when she returned
to Santurce. Don Ramón's expression wasn't very happy when he heard that baby
Nancy was being introduced with Pepe's last name. But America told him it was
for Yanni's sake, so he wouldn't be confused, and Pepe didn't mind.
People wondered about America's adoptive
daughter. Other maids asked Miguelina at the store if she was really adopted or
if Miss Mery had gone to Arecibo to have her. But Miguelina met all questions
with silence. "Nancy was adopted, I was there, I know," was all
Miguelina would say.
"Why does the baby have Don Pepe's last
name?," they questioned. "Isn't Miss Mery with Don Ramón Marín
now?" But Miguelina always had the same answer. "I don't know. Why
don't you ask Miss Mery yourself?"
***
"Officer González, Miguelina can't answer
your questions because she wasn't here this morning, she already told
you," Pepe said in a tone that defied questioning as he slowly walked
toward the policeman. "When she left with my son and my daughter in the
morning, America was alone. Miguelina went straight to the store after she
dropped Yanni at school. That's what she did every day."
"But where is the gun?," officer
González asked, turning around to face Pepe, Don Antonio and Don Luis.
"We're trying to find it, we already told
you," Don Luis said. "It was Mr. Gelpí's gun. He gave it to America
about a week ago, for her protection. You know as well we do that politics is a
dangerous business these days. Yanni is his son. The baby is his daughter.
America was the mother of his children."
"Wouldn't it be better if this
investigation is postponed until later," Don Antonio interjected in the authoritative
tone that characterized him. "Let's wait for the coroner. Miguelina has to
pack clothes for the children and Mr. Gelpí has to take them to their
grandmother's home in San Juan. The boy can't stay here while his mother lies
dead in the yard."
Pepe looked around again. He could still hear
Yanni crying in the yard and the baby's yelps demanding food from the crib in
her bedroom down the hallway.
"Narciso, could I impose on you to take
Yanni away from his mother. Take him with you to your house?," Pepe said.
"I'll be by later to pick him up. Or the driver will pick him up. I don't
want him in the middle of this... There's too much that must be done
today."
"Of course, Don Pepe," Narciso said as
he crossed the dining room to the back door that led to the yard.
***
Later, after Yanni and the baby had gone with
Don Narciso and Miguelina, Don Pepe walked into the dining room from the
gallery. He stood with the other three men around the dining table, looking at
each other and at their feet. The question hung in the air. Why was America
dead in the yard? Where did she get the gun? What did Miguelina know?
A difficult situation, a scandalous situation
that could have disastrous consequences for the four men who stood there
waiting for the coroner.
-- To be Continued --
© 2013 A.T. Gelpí
Another well paced chapter.
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